


When Lovers Cease to See

by Soaring_Ren (Robin_Knight)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Emotional Infidelity, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Soaring_Ren
Summary: Shiro wants what's best for Keith.It devastates him to see Lance and Keith always fighting, always hurting. While Lance continues to flirt with various women, Keith pulls further away into an emotional affair, and all that holds them together is the sex. Shiro wants nothing more than to spoil and care for Keith, but to do so would betray Lance.





	1. Chapter 1

“Knock it off, you guys!”

Shiro banged hard against the wall. The strength of his prosthetic hand caused the plaster to crack, where it sent a wave of dust over onto the bed. He threw back his head with a low groan. There was now a fine layer of debris over his book, which he brushed away with his organic hand, and – as he looked over to the wall – there was a visible dent that would require a handyman to come in to repair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

The bed itself doubled as makeshift sofa, which enabled him to grade schoolwork in relative comfort, and – as he stretched out his legs over the thick blankets – he tried to draw in deep and slow breaths. It was difficult to focus on his reading; the rhythmic banging from the room next-door was enough to provide a constant nuisance, but it was like the steady noise of a metronome or ticking clock, something Shiro had learnt to drone out during his meditation sessions and yoga classes. There was just an unfortunate noise alongside . . .

“I mean it, you two,” called Shiro. “I can hear every word!”

There came a high-pitched whine.

It brought a blush to Shiro’s scarred cheeks; there soon followed a low groan, followed by whispered words and constant chants, and then – as someone gave a loud cry, almost like a scream – the bangs against his wall quickened in speed. The framed photographs on Shiro’s wall began to rattle; images of their group, images of Shiro’s family, and even images of him alone with Keith throughout the years . . . all moved with a life of their own. Shiro gripped the edges of his book until the pages began to tear and rip from the spine.

Shiro struggled to keep calm, until there came a cried order of ‘harder’. It was the final straw. The book in his hand was thrown in the direction of the bookcase, where it collided with various knick-knacks and sent them hurtling to the ground, and – as the paperback finally struck the ground – he heard his heart pulse heavily in his ears. He clenched his fists and threw himself onto his feet, before he stormed over to the door with a muttered curse.

“I’m heading out,” he called over.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him. He could still hear them from the living room, which was empty save for a familiar person by the kitchen-counter, and – as he looked down with a dark blush – he realised how much tension he carried. Shiro drew a deep breath and relaxed his muscles; his shoulders slumped, while his hands unclenched, and he made his way over to the counter, where he saw Coran whisking what looked like eggs. It was far from a reassuring sight, as Shiro was in no mood to try and fend off his friend’s cooking skills.

“They’re at it again,” muttered Shiro.

There was a hum of acknowledgement from Coran. The stove behind him sizzled with various frying foods, each one giving off a rather delicious aroma, and Shiro – as he took a seat on a nearby barstool – felt his mouth begin to water. Coran was dressed in the Altean attire that was so common among his people, at least before the war decimated the population to just the two of them, and the pink apron over his front clashed with his white-and-blue suit in a manner that brought a smile to Shiro’s face. The older man poured the eggs onto a pan.

The instant sizzle brought various memories to Shiro’s mind, brought about by association, and soon he found his smile erased to make way for a frown. It was only a mug of hot coffee before him, made with a dash of honey and almond milk, which enabled him to look over to Coran with a grateful quirk of his lips. The breakfast was soon plated up and placed between them, with a slight clatter of plates and bowls. Coran sat opposite him with a wink.

“Cheer up, old chap,” chirped Coran.

“I can hear them from my room,” muttered Shiro.

“Ah, yes, they are – er – a little _vocal_ this morning.” Coran twirled the end of his moustache. “I thought a wee bit o’ breakfast would help drown out the sounds, but every time I turn down one of the pans -? Bang! It happens all over again. Oh, I don’t know how you put up with it! I’m just glad to have the upstairs bedroom. Far simpler. Less noise.”

“They had a fight last night. It’s why they’re at it this morning; you missed most of it with your date-night, but you should have heard it, Coran. He was in my room most of the night, crying and complaining, and I thought maybe – just maybe – he would . . .”

“He would leave Lance for you?” The way Coran’s violet eyes softened spoke more than words. “Oh, I _know_ how you feel for Keith, but . . . well . . . it _may_ be time to let go, yes? I know how much you love him, but this is does strike me as a _teensy_ bit like an emotional affair. You both deserve something better than this; you deserve someone who’ll be with you physically, and Keith deserves someone that will be with him emotionally.”

Shiro gave a lazy smile, as he looked over to the bedroom doors. The noise was so constant that the previous moans were more like Morse code, while the banging had become a stream of sound, and so – as Shiro narrowed his eyes and let his smile fall – he knew that the events inside were coming to a natural end. He licked his lips and shook his head, as he ran a hand over his face and stabbed at his food. There was a temptation to move onto school premises, where most single teachers resided, but he simply swallowed hard and forced a smile.

“I’m willing to offer him everything,” whispered Shiro.

Coran opened his mouth to speak. A loud scream cut him off.

The two men looked to Keith’s door on the left, where they heard – clear as day – one name shouted loud enough to bring a blush to both their cheeks: ‘Shiro’. Instinct overcame Shiro. He was at once on his feet, until Coran leaned across the counter and shot out a hand to grip his upper arm, and – with a surprising feat of strength – dragged Shiro back onto his stool and shook his head with a stern gaze. Shiro made to argue, until the obvious sank into him. There was no immediate danger, as Keith hadn’t cried out his name for help . . .

“Well, this’ll cause some problems,” muttered Coran.

There came angry shouts, followed by something smashing against a wall. The door to the bedroom swung open. Lance stood with his brown skin flushed dark, as he stood in a loose pair of jeans and an old t-shirt scrunched in his hand, and – as he looked to Shiro with a dark glare – he slammed the door shut behind him and walked over to the staircase that led to the common bathroom and Allura and Coran’s master bedroom. Lance muttered on his way past:

“Er, I’m just borrowing your shower.”

“Spare towels are in the upstairs airing cupboard,” said Shiro.

“Thanks, Shiro. I appreciate that.”

Lance made no eye contact as he went upstairs. There was just the sound of his heavy footsteps and the sight of his hunched shadow, until it moved out of sight and the footsteps died away. Inside Keith’s room, there came a loud sound of angry music being played at a volume that would prove a nuisance. The sound of running water came from upstairs, which was a sign that Lance had left the door ajar, and Shiro raised a hand to his temple.

He massaged at the skin on the side of his head, as he sent surreptitious glances over to Keith’s bedroom, and – as he drew in a deep breath, which made his skin-tight shirt feel uncomfortable – he looked to Coran for some reassurance. The older man simply lifted a fork with a rather delicious cut of homemade sausage, which was waved in a distracting manner only an inch before Shiro’s lips, but Shiro simply sighed and pushed Coran’s hand away with a stern gaze and lips pursed white with pressure. Shiro asked in a cool voice:

“You heard that, right?”

“I heard someone call your name, yes,” admitted Coran.

“I know he loves me, too,” said Shiro. “I keep meaning to talk to him about it, just in case maybe he thinks that I don’t reciprocate, but then I hold him in my arms – I can feel the time is just perfect – and he’ll say something that will make me doubt myself, like how I’m the best friend he ever had or how he wishes things would work with Lance.”

“Look, this is – ah – something I don’t really like to talk about, but . . . I guess while Allura is at work and Keith is busy sulking in his room -? I can tell you that I had a similar issue when I was around your age. I _may_ have been slightly torn between two men.”

“Two men? I always thought – because of Allura – that you –”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I’m as bisexual as a bicycle.”

Shiro gave a smile and gestured for the fork. The meat turned out to be quite delicious, even alongside the omelette and various pieces of toast, and together the two men picked at various dishes and found themselves an enjoyable breakfast. There would be plenty leftover for Keith, although perhaps not quite enough for Lance, and a part of Shiro tensed – as he gritted his teeth and gave a small hiss – that Keith had said nothing about Lance staying over.

“Okay,” said Shiro, “so what happened?”

“I – er – might have been a teeny-weeny bit in a relationship with – ah – Zarkon.” Coran rubbed the back of his neck, as his teeth gnawed at his lower lip. “It’s not something I’m proud to announce, but I was young and we were all Paladins. I – I had feelings for Alfor, deeper than I can ever express, but I thought he was out of league . . . oh, you know what it’s like! You’re young and think status is more important than the emotion.

“Oh, it’s so strange now I look back! It’s strange that I could think my feelings for him so real, but assume his feelings would rely on class and social positioning . . . I wonder if what I feared was rejection? It was easier to think it an impossible dream, to never even try and fight for his love, because to try was to risk being told . . . ‘no’. Ah, the hopeless and hapless romance of youth! I spent my time hiding my pain behind a smile, always striving to be the comedian and all-around dependable guy, never wanting him to know the truth.

“It’s a shame, as it was my greatest regret. I always wondered ‘what if’, because the lack of trying brought with it a lack of closure. Well, you can guess what happened next! The old chap went and married someone else, by which point my love was officially unrequited, and I fell further and further into my relationship with Zarkon. That was – eh – a little bit brutal, as I think we were both just using one another . . . desperate to feel _something_.”

There was a cessation of noise from above. The water stopped, while the door creaked as it was pushed to a closed position, and Shiro almost swore he could hear Lance humming some old love song to himself. Coran picked at his food, while Shiro sipped at his coffee. It was a strange silence between them; Shiro could understand his friend’s position, but a part of him felt distanced from him in the same breath. The problem for Shiro was feeling too much. He looked over to the door again, letting his eyes linger, even as his head fell forward. There followed a mournful sigh from Coran, as he poked at the bread with a forceful stab.

“We ended it when he betrayed us,” whispered Coran.

Shiro gave an imperceptible wince; memories of the war were strong, a war where even civilians and innocents were often victims of cruel abuse, and the death of Zarkon was one celebrated annually across the various galaxies. It was difficult to believe a man so cruel to have once been so loved. Coran’s eyes glimmered with a sheen of water, while his pupils narrowed considerably, and Shiro forced a smile and reached out to touch upon his forearm.

They sat in amiable silence for a few minutes. The quiet was broken only by loud footsteps, each one a purposeful slam as if to make a point, followed by Lance now dressed in the clothes from the night before, as he wandered into the living room with a visible pout. Shiro pulled his hand away with a hiss of breath, as the two men watched Lance dart about the lounge with quite furious gestures, often wrenching up cushions or various items only to throw them about in his search for something unbeknownst to them. He eventually found what he sought.

Lance snatched his coat from the sofa, as he pulled it on and bounded over to the door, and – as he made to leave – he gave a relatively polite goodbye to Shiro and Coran, as well as asking them to tell Keith he would call later. The door slammed closed behind him, leaving the two men in a somewhat disinterested silence. Shiro simply shrugged and reached out for a piece of still warm bread, which he tore in two and offered half to Coran, before he asked:

“How does Allura -?”

“Oh, we don’t talk about that much,” admitted Coran. “I know how this seems from an outsider’s perspective, but the heart wants what the heart wants, eh? I love Allura for _Allura_ , not for whom she reminds me of or who she’s related to, and I think we both _need_ one another. We’re the last of our kind! It’s a heavy burden, but . . . we understand one another. We understand the _grief_ when no one else does. I love her, Shiro. I truly do.”

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened _had_ you told Alfor?” Shiro asked with a scratch to his neck. “Do you think there’s such a thing as soul-mates? Do you think he would have said ‘no’ regardless, because he was meant to be with Allura’s mother? If he loved you in return, wouldn’t he have told you how he felt in turn?”

“I can’t answer those questions for you, lad.” Coran gave a twirl of his moustache. “I can only tell you that I was never one to believe entirely in fate . . . maybe sometimes the world aligns just right, and the coincidences add up, and something perfect happens.”

“Maybe that is fate . . . something putting it into motion.”

“Maybe, but maybe we also make our _own_ fate.”

They stared quietly at one another, each with a matching smile. Shiro pondered what was said, until he could stand the silence no more, and – as he reached out for the hot coffee – brought it to his lips and relished in the steam. The music soon quietened from Keith’s room; it fell into a low bass, with the volume just low enough to hear rattled movements from inside, and Shiro caught odd words that made it clear a phone call was in progress. He looked to the door and felt his smile falter, as his facial scar began to ache.

“We dated for a while, you know,” admitted Shiro.

“Hmm? Oh, I know.” Coran scratched at his nose. “Keith told Allura during the war, and – well – you know what it’s like with couples . . . you lie in bed, tell each other about your day, trust each other with secrets you wouldn’t tell anyone else . . . it’s a relief, honestly. I used to have t’ be strong for everyone, but – with Allura – I finally have someone strong for me.”

“I got to admit. I am jealous. Allura can be strong for you, while you can be strong for her, but meanwhile it feels like I have to be strong for _everyone_. If it weren’t for these chats, I think I would have imploded a long time ago. Thank you, Coran. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Shiro! What are friends for, eh?” Coran gave a wink and tilted his head to the side. “I know you two dated before your Kerberos mission, probably didn’t expect for so much to change when you came back, but – well – how do I put this? They say that ‘love is blind’; you aren’t seeing the risks for what they are, for who could get hurt, and I think maybe Keith isn’t seeing things clearly either. You’re both . . .”

Coran looked off into the distance. The house was rather small, made smaller by how the space was shared by four adults in a post-war world, and Shiro was able to follow his gaze easily to the opposite wall that was offset by two floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a television featured low on the wall, surrounded by various sofas, but above that – stuck to the bare brick itself – were an array of photographs. Shiro noted there was not one of Zarkon, but he saw one of Allura, Alfor and Coran taken during Allura and Coran’s engagement.

“We’re both what?” Shiro asked.

There was an almost imperceptible tremble to Coran’s lips, until he looked away and began to distract himself by cleaning up the kitchen equipment. The plate before him was still filled with barely touched food, taken from the sharing plates and yet only nibbled or teased, and still he clattered about with various dishes and items in his mission to tidy the space. Shiro said nothing, but waited for his friend to break the silence in his own time.

“Well, you’re both hiding from the truth,” said Coran.

“You need to explain, Coran.”

“You won’t give Keith space.” Coran gave a long sigh. “If he’s to stand any chance of making things work with Lance, you’ve _got_ to let the old boy go! No more emotional affairs. No more pining behind closed doors. Just like our Keith -! If that boy _does_ have feelings for you, he needs to call things off with Lance now, as Lance is so madly in love with that boy . . . the poor thing doesn’t even realise there’s a problem. He’ll get hurt.”

“I hear what you’re saying; I either need to remove the temptation, or Keith has to find the strength to call it a day with Lance, but – either way – we can’t keep things going as they stand, because it’s just not tenable.” Shiro winced and shook his head. “Can I ask you a question, Coran? What do you regret most of all with Zarkon and Alfor?”

“Honestly? Well, I guess never telling Alfor while I had a chance.”

Coran froze by the sink. He held a dirty frying pan in one hand, with a sponge in the other, and Shiro made a mental note to explain that frying soapy water was perhaps a better way to clean, as well as a way to avoid destroying the finish. There was a strange pause. Coran looked confused from behind, as if unsure of why he was before the sink and what he intended, but then – with a shake of his head – he turned back to his chores. Shiro chirped:

“Thanks, I appreciate the honesty.”

The moment was broken between them by a loud throat-clear. Both men turned to see Keith standing alone in his bedroom doorway, looking so ravishing that Shiro was forced to cross his legs and hope the gesture appeared natural, while Coran – even occupied with washing dishes and with far more self-control – gave a blush and looked away. Shiro swallowed hard and gave a slight wave over to Keith, who waved back with a free hand.

Keith dressed himself in nothing but a white-shirt; it looked to be an old one of Shiro’s, likely borrowed without permission and kept as a makeshift dressing gown, and it reached his upper-thighs and barely covered little else. One hand was occupied in holding down the hem, so that nothing would accidentally be flashed to the room. There was a flush to his cheeks. It was an almost hypnotic sight, especially as his hair was mussed and his lips were bruised, and a strange possessive streak ran through Shiro. He barely noticed when Keith spoke:

“Shiro?” Keith asked. “Can we talk?”

Shiro was at once on his feet. He caught the raised eyebrow from Coran; Shiro looked away with a blush, as he ran a hand through his hair and gave a shrug of his shoulders. It was difficult to ignore the way Coran stared him down, as if in silent warning, and yet he knew that he would go into Keith’s room and comfort him despite all that was earlier said. Shiro waved a hand again to his younger friend, as he forced as bright a smile as he could muster.

“Sure, I’ll be right over.”

Coran simply sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Yo, Earth to Lance!”

Lance gave a small jump. He looked across the table to Hunk; the other man sat back against the leather cushions with a bright grin, and – as he slung one arm over Shay’s shoulders – he gave a bright wink that brought small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. The yellow shirt suited him well, while his dark skin looked all the darker in the low lighting of the restaurant, and his good humour was almost contagious. Lance returned the smile with one in turn, as he scratched at his neck and glanced around with a mild disinterest.

The table was littered with various glasses and bottles, along with various plates filled with half-eaten foods and scattered crumbs, and – as Lance counted all five glasses – the one empty wine glass opposite him stood as a strange omen. Shay reached out to take a few fries from the sharing platter, while Pidge laid down between Lance and Shay on the circular seats, trapped inside the booth and yet with an impassive expression, as she surfed her phone.

He rested his hand on Pidge’s legs, which rested upon his lap, and let his fingers run through the light dusting of hair on bare skin. The shorts suited her well, even if they made her look far younger than her years, and the fact that she had been carded at the bar still seemed to sit ill. Lance threw back his head and gave a long sigh. There was a strong draught from the front doors to the restaurant, as a crowd of people tried to fight their way in through the masses, before they headed outside with a muttered series of complaints.

“Can’t believe how busy it is tonight,” chirped Hunk.

Lance glanced again to the doors. He narrowed his blue eyes and shrugged his shoulders, while he looked to Pidge and saw her glance over the rims of her glasses. It was an analytical expression; thick eyebrows furrowed together, while her eyes narrowed in concentration, and those lips pursed together with a constant movement in and out. Lance smiled and tightened his grip upon her leg, as he gave a long sigh and threw back his head onto the wooden lattice on top of the seats. It sent patterns across the tabletops, which only added to the distraction.

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty much,” muttered Pidge.

“It’s just a shame Shiro couldn’t join us.” Hunk reached out for a chicken leg. “I mean, I know he’s a teacher and all, but – _hello_ – we’re all students, right? I mean – like – we pretty much have the same schedule, so if we can turn up -? He totally can.”

“I think maybe he just didn’t _want_ to show up. I mean it’s pretty difficult working as a teacher at the Garrison, all that commuting and supervising and chaperoning, but probably a lot more awkward when the guy you’re madly in love with happens to be screwing one of your students. Seriously, Shiro’s not here . . . Keith’s not here . . . at least Shiro said from the outset he wouldn’t make it, but what about Keith? Not so much as a text.”

“You know, Pidge, I love you and you’re way cool and all, but – dude – _really_ un-cool to make those kinds of accusations right in front of _you know who_.” Hunk gestured with his thumb across the table to Lance with a nod of his head. “It’s just obvious Shiro isn’t going to have an affair with Keith, even if Keith is – well – you know – _Keith_.”

“Okay,” said Lance, “how does _everyone_ see a problem _but_ me?”

Hunk looked over the table to Pidge. The younger woman was laid down, which likely made her impossible to see, but Lance saw the way she attempted to look back to Hunk, as if – despite the slab of wood between them – they could see one another. There was a frown on both their expressions, while Shay sat between them with her hand raised to her mouth, and Lance darted his eyes between one and the other in a race to see one of them break the silence with any kind of word or gesture. Eventually, Pidge looked to him with a cheeky grin.

“Wilfully blind?” Pidge asked.

“Total romantic at heart,” suggested Hunk.

Lance gave a low groan, as he stared up at the ceiling. There was a low chuckle from Pidge, who nudged at his chest with her foot, and Hunk gave a long laugh, as he pulled Shay closer against him and held her tight to his chest. The empty glass stood as a firm reminder. It sat at the edge of the table, just beside Hunk and opposite Lance, and it caught the lights from above just enough to cast strange spots upon the tabletop. It was almost hypnotic.

“Thanks, guys,” he muttered.

“No problem,” chirped Hunk. “Any time!”

“Okay, well, I have a serious question, alright?” Lance blushed and sighed. “You know Keith dated Shiro before he left for Kerberos, right? Well, I was cool with that, thought it was a one-off and it wasn’t like they were sexual, but . . . okay, this is the weird part . . . he _may_ have called out Shiro’s name during sex this morning? That’s like a sign, right?”

The sudden silence deafened him. Lance noticed how Shay politely excused herself, with a blush to her cheeks and a slight stoop to her back, and – as she moved to the bar to wait for another round of drinks – Pidge sat upright with crossed legs. It made her look younger than her years, as she hunched over with her phone in her lap, and yet her eyes glanced over those glasses to look him up and down. He gave a blush, as he moved his hands onto the table, where he clasped them together and gnawed his lip until it began to swell.

Hunk gave a long hum; he reached out for a slice of garlic bread, which he tore in two and began to gnaw at with a furrowed brow, and – for a brief moment – Lance wondered whether the slight preoccupation with foods was a coping mechanism. The bar and restaurant was alive with sound and movement, so that Lance struggled to keep Shay in sight, and he wondered whether she would be okay bringing the drinks back. Hunk broke the silence:

“Do you think they’re sleeping together?”

“Nah, Shiro’s not like that,” muttered Lance. “I kind of think that Keith wants to, but every time I bring it up he just freaks out! Says I don’t trust him! I know we started off on the wrong foot, but I thought I’d finally earned his trust . . . we’d be good together, you know, if he’d just let it be _more_ than angry sex all the time. I just want him to talk to me.”

“He’s got problems with communication,” said Pidge with a shrug. “Shiro’s the only person he’s ever really opened up with; well, except Allura, but even then he’s not nearly as comfortable with her as he is with Shiro. You’re not going to change him.”

“I don’t think it’s about changing him, though?” Hunk interrupted. “I mean, like, I could be totally wrong, but -? Okay, it’s just about compromise. It’s not as though Lance is asking for public displays of affection or to talk about their deepest and darkest secrets, but just for some give-and-take, maybe for Keith to – you know – _show_ that he actually cares on a deeper level than the next screw? He called out another guy’s name! That’s a big deal.”

Lance blushed and buried his face into his hands. It was one thing for it to have happened, but another to hear it from someone else’s lips and have the whole thing verified as ‘wrong’. He gazed lazily into the glass of beer close to him, as he watched the liquid give subtle movements every time someone walked past their table, and soon Shay slid back into the booth and squeezed past Hunk in the process. The young woman placed a tray of drinks on the table, this time various cocktails and shots, pushing aside the stray glasses in the process.

“So what do I do?” Lance asked.

“What about trying to make him jealous?” Pidge suggested. “He did call out Shiro’s name, plus he won’t even talk about it, so why not do some flirting? If he knows how it feels not to have your partner’s full attention, maybe he’ll finally open up about stuff.”

“That’s the world’s worst suggestion,” said Hunk. “Do not do that.”

“Well, he’s got to think fast. Keith’s here.”

Lance turned to see Keith headed towards them. He looked visibly distressed by the crowds; he would freeze upon contact with strangers, flinching away from them and moving with great skill to avoid touching any of them, and his blue-grey eyes were half-narrowed and flickered to and fro in a constant search. There was a curl to his upper lip, while his cheeks were paled and his hands clenched into tight fists. He came to a stop before the table.

Keith was dressed relatively smart; he wore his trademark fingerless gloves, along with a cut-off jacket, and his skin-tight jeans were covered in various oil-stains and rips, which only made Lance’s mouth water and his pupils dilate. It was clear that Keith had just got off work, especially with the sheen of sweat to his forehead and soot across his fingers, and Lance gave a bright smile and patted to the spot across from him. Keith simply raised an eyebrow and looked at the empty space besides Hunk, before he asked in a monotone voice:

“You picked here of all places?”

There was a long sigh from Hunk, who threw back his head onto the lattice. Shay looked to him with concern, as she placed a hand on his chest and another on his shoulder, and Pidge – who rolled her eyes and collapsed back onto the seat – rested her feet firmly on Lance’s lap, before she returned to her phone. Lance folded his arms across his chest, as his heart began to race with a speed that made him feel close to fainting. He asked in a cold voice:

“What’s wrong with here?”

“You know I don’t like crowds,” said Keith. “There’s too much stimulus. I’m not sitting in a place with flashing lights and all this noise, especially when I can barely move without some creep touching against my shoulder or something. I’m heading to the bar across the road.”

“Oh, you can shut your quiznak right there, buddy!” Lance glared at his partner. “I know you’ve had a tough day and work at all, but you can’t even find a few minutes to sit down with your friends . . . your _boyfriend_. . . who’ve waited all day to see you? You’d _seriously_ just abandon us to go sit by yourself in some empty old bar? What kind of pal does that? You didn’t even give us the _option_ to go with you! You’re so rude.”

“Look, you got to go back to the Garrison. I didn’t. That choice was made for me when I was expelled the first time around, so pardon me for – you know – working my ass off to make a living and build my own business. I’m tired. I don’t particularly fancy being forced on the verge of a panic attack, just because you want to be all cutesy-cutesy. I’m not about that.”

“I didn’t invite you here to show you off! I invited you here to _be_ with you.”

“Well, you can be with me later. What’s the difference?”

Lance tightened his hands into fists. There was a lump in his throat, one that threatened to spill over into a scream or actual tears, but he simply listened to his heart and tried to curb his breathing into something manageable. The sense of isolation reminded him of the castle, with only Coran for comfort, and he looked to Keith and saw the usual indifference and incomprehension that he wore for these talks. It was usually easy to find patience to explain such social intricacies, jokes, and expectations, but the exhaustion ran deep. Lance asked:

“Well, why don’t I go talk to the waitress instead?”

“What are you babbling about?”

“The waitress,” said Lance with a shrug. “I mean, you get to fantasise about other guys during sex, am I right? What’s the difference between that a bit of harmless flirting? If neither is going anywhere, no one’s going to get hurt. Plus, she’s totally hot. Hey, is that what you like about Shiro? Is he hot? Am I not? I can get wanting to do someone else, not as though I’ve ever been good enough for you. You won’t even _sit_ with me.”

“You’re totally twisting things! I’m not having this discussion right now, but there’s a big difference between me _accidentally_ saying someone else’s name and you _purposefully_ flirting with some random woman. Why would I want to sit with you, anyway? Apparently, all you want to do is rehash some old argument. You really that stuck for something new to say?”

“You want me to say something new? How about this: you don’t fucking respect me! You insult my intelligence, you never listen to my suggestions, and you’re basically having an affair with Shiro behind my back! You -! You were my . . . my first . . .”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” said Keith. “You lack experience.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

There was a muttered comment from Pidge, while Hunk gave a nervous laugh. Hunk turned to fully face Shay, as he engaged her in some trivial conversation to detract from the argument, and Lance – as he looked up to his boyfriend with a trembling lip – felt a great deal of gratitude to his friends. He saw Pidge lower her phone, just enough to keep her eyes locked upon their hands, and he sensed that she would be on her feet at once, should either one of them even attempt to make it physical. Lance swallowed hard and rapidly blinked.

“You’ve never been with anyone else,” snapped Keith. “You don’t know that relationships are all give and take, or that this – _all of this_ – is totally unhealthy, and maybe it just _isn’t_ worth holding onto, not if you’re just going to flirt with the first waitress that crosses your eye. At least I had Shiro and Iverson before this, but you haven’t even-?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as though you ever screwed either of them.”

“I screwed Iverson. Made a habit of it after leaving.”

The revelation sent a ripple of silence across the table. Lance realised the year between Shiro’s presumed death and their forming Voltron was a long year, especially when Keith spent time isolated and grief-stricken in the desert, but the idea of him with Iverson -? Lance shook his head and forced a bright smile. He leaned forward and waved over to the bar, where the waitress laughed and joked with the bartender, and – once her attention was caught – gave a large wink and blew a kiss. Lance bellowed as loud as possible:

“Hey, baby! Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

The waitress blushed and gave a laugh, before wafting her hand at him. It wasn’t quite dismissive, but it was teasing and hinted at amusement, and – as Lance waggled his eyebrows – it became clear she was considering reciprocating his advances. There was a licking of her lips and her hands began to fidget with her notepad. A hand slammed down onto the table. One of the empty glasses toppled over with the force, while Pidge jumped upright with a hand on the tabletop and another on the back of the chair, as if ready to pounce.

Keith simply leaned into Lance’s personal space, with hand pressed against the wood, and soon – with a narrowing of his eyes and a heave of breath – he drove his free hand into the fabric of Lance’s shirt, twisting it enough to pull him forward. There was a spark of fear that ran through Lance, along with a stab of pain in his heart, but he gave a cocky half-smile and fought away the urge to either laugh or cry, as Keith’s lips strained into a white line.

“You have to be shitting me,” cried Keith.

“Too bad you weren’t fucking Iverson _before_ you got expelled,” spat Lance. “Who knows? Maybe you’d have been allowed to stay. If you’re allowed to lie by omission, fantasise about other guys, and totally ignore my existence -? Why can’t I flirt with women?”

“Look, if you have a problem with me, just come out and say it.”

“Funny, I thought that’s what I am doing.”

They stared at each other in silence. Keith held tighter, until Lance was pulled an inch from his seat and was pressed nose-to-nose with his lover, and soon he could hear Keith’s heavy breath panted against his lips. Lance gnawed at his lip, relishing in the intimacy that never came at any other time, as his heart pounded painfully against his chest with a fast and rhythmic beat. He noticed that Keith’s eyes were dilated. There was a flush to his cheeks.

“Follow me,” said Keith. “We need to calm down.”

“‘We’ need to calm down? You started it.”

“Just come on, for God’s sake.”

Keith yanked Lance off his seat. There was a loud complaint from Pidge, but Lance – as he stumbled to his feet – just raised a hand to signal that it was fine. He struggled to keep his eyes on Keith, who was already fighting his way through the crowd, and dove in and out of the groups of people to keep up with his partner. It was easy to get jostled. It was easy to trip and waver under the influence of alcohol. He barely even noticed when Keith dipped into the bathrooms, still a bit too hazy and emotional to even consider the reasons.

Lance ran into the bathroom after Keith, where the bright lights hurt his eyes. He fell back against the door with a hiss of pain, before he ran the soles of his hands over his face, and – as he massaged his eyes back to life – he caught sight of a distant stall door swing open. It revealed Keith, who half-leant out and already was busy unbuttoning his trousers, before he reached inside to reveal an impressive erection. The tip leaked pre-come.

“This way, idiot,” ordered Keith.

The door was left open as an invitation. Keith remained hidden out of sight, until Lance practically ran to the door with a hiss of breath, and – as he threw open the door – he caught sight of Keith with shirt pulled up to reveal a toned stomach, while his other hand encircled his length and worked it with great expertise. It was a sight that made his mouth water. The length was thin, but quite long and with a thick vein along the underside.

Lance slammed the door shut, as he locked it after a few fumbled attempts. The anger and shame and desperation coursed through him; Lance quickly undid his jeans, forcing them down his thighs, and pounced upon Keith with a passionate kiss. There was little room to manoeuvre. He wanted to feel those long legs around his waist, press deep inside him and hear every noise as he struck against the wall, but instead Lance settled for pressing their members against one another and wrapping his hand around them.

He pumped them both in a quick and regular rhythm. Keith’s hands came up to clench upon his shoulders, until he broke the kiss and began to place love-bites along Lance’s neck, and each time he did – with painful and long-lasting bites and suckles – Lance found himself growing closer and closer, the rush of adrenaline fuelling them close to release. There was a bang on the door, along with a rustle of sound from the stall beside them.

Keith gave a loud cry of pleasure.

He threw back his head hard enough that Lance feared a concussion, but the feeling of come dripping over his hands – his lover’s mouth wide in an ‘O’ shape, eyes closed and sweat pouring over his temples – was enough to push him over the edge. Lance gave into his orgasm, as he nearly fainted from the overwhelming pleasure. He fell against Keith, trapping him between the bathroom wall and himself, before he pulled back and swore on sight of the ropes of come that covered his shirt. Lance quickly worked on wiping it away.

Keith tucked himself away, before wiping away the come. He opened the door and ducked outside, before Lance could even utter a single word, and – by the time Lance was decent enough to leave the stall – he noticed Keith was already long gone. Lance ran a hand over his face and tried to force back an unwanted cry, as he turned and locked himself back in the stall where he slid to the floor and tried to ignore the proposition from the guy next door.

“Well, bye, I guess,” he muttered to himself.

He wiped away a stray tear.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

There came a sudden knock.

Keith looked up to the bedroom door; it was almost pitch-black, especially with the curtains closed behind him and the windows overlooking an enclosed courtyard, which was shared by several houses that built a large perimeter. It allowed in little light. There were small glows from the charging phone on his bedside table, along with the stand-by light of the television just right of the door upon the wall, and they gave the space an eerie glow.

He climbed to his feet and smoothed out his shirt, as he ran a hand through his hair. The shirt still had a slight smell of Shiro’s cologne, along with the familiar and soft texture of the older man’s clothing, and it provided a small comfort to Keith, as he walked over to the bedroom door and prepared to open it wide. Keith drew in a deep breath. He scratched at his bare leg with a bare foot, as he let his fingertips trace patterns over the doorknob, and – with a rapid pounding of his heart – finally allowed himself to greet his visitor.

Shiro stood with a warm smile.

It took a moment for Keith’s eyes to adjust. There was a great deal of light from behind Shiro, as Allura and Coran curled up together underneath a chequered blanket upon the sofa, and the light from the television – seemingly playing an old romance movie – cast strange shadows about the living room. Shiro looked as handsome as ever, dressed in the instructor uniform from the Garrison, and Keith was forced to adjust how he stood, as a spark of arousal coursed through him. He swallowed hard and fought back a blush.

“Er, hey,” said Keith.

“I thought you could do with some company.” Shiro gave a grin and folded his arms. “We’re having a movie night, if you want to join us? I bought extra Chinese on my way home, so we have plenty to share, or I could bring in some plates and we could eat it in your room. I know Allura doesn’t like us to talk while we watch films, and – well – I have to ask: Iverson?”

Keith spluttered and flushed red. He looked rapidly around the room, where he saw Allura peek her head up from its place on Coran’s chest, as she watched him with a cheeky grin and raised eyebrow, and he knew that Lance had told Coran everything. Keith ran a hand over his neck and face, until he let his eyes fall upon the kitchen counter. The takeout boxes were from his favourite place. The aroma was already making his mouth water, while he knew that a very early night on a very empty stomach was a bad idea, and so he muttered out:

“Just go get the food, Takashi.”

Shiro gave a loud laugh and a mock salute. He dashed over to the counter, where he began to dish up the various foods onto plates, and Keith – trusting his friend to know his tastes – turned his back with a smile and headed inside his room. Keith sat at the head of his bed, where he lifted the blankets to cover his lap and keep his modesty. The noise from the television brought a throaty laugh from Coran, along with a slight chuckle from Allura, and Keith almost regretted not joining them for movie-night. They sounded content.

It was almost relaxing to listen to them, as he rubbed sleep from his eyes and gave a wide yawn, and soon – as he found himself almost drifting back into a deep sleep – he saw Shiro standing in the doorway with two large plates filled to the brim. Shiro flicked on a low-lamp by the desk, as he kicked the door closed and walked over to Keith. The plate was placed carefully on his lap. It was warm through the blankets, heavy against his legs.

Shiro sat at the foot of the bed, with his back pressed against the wall. The lamp was situated on the other side of the door, where it was precariously balanced upon a bookshelf, and the light illuminated Shiro in a beautiful manner. It lit him from underneath, accentuating his sharp features and emphasising his jaw-line, and – as Shiro ate slowly with chopsticks in hand – Keith was hypnotised by the movement of his Adam’s apple. Shiro eventually slurped the last of his current bite, before he let his eyes move over to Keith with a smile.

“Seriously?” Shiro asked. “Iverson?”

Keith laughed despite himself, as he took a few bites of food. He tried to kick at Shiro’s thigh, despite his legs being trapped beneath the blankets, but Shiro – true to form – took the opportunity to regain the upper hand. The older man placed an open palm over Keith’s calf, holding him even through the layers of fabric, and it was a strong hold filled with familiar warmth only Shiro could ever exude. Keith smiled, as he let himself sink into his pillows.

“Shut up, I mean it,” teased Keith.

“He never told me,” said Shiro. “You’d have thought he’d tell me.”

“It was a pretty short lived affair.” Keith bit his lip and gave a shrug. “You know how I was expelled after they told me you were dead, right? Well, I passed time with a small business out by the shack, using the shed you built attached, and I spent time working as a mechanic for small jobs, just making ends meet, and – well – Iverson was a customer.”

“Hmm, he mentioned keeping an eye on you. I was pretty grateful. I still am grateful, because I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most, so I can’t thank him enough for helping to teach you the things you needed to get by. Still, how’d the affair start?”

“It was close to one year since you left for Kerberos, around four months before you came back to us and lead us to Voltron. I was pretty distraught one night; he came by to pick up his vehicle, found me in tears, and – no one would ever believe me on this, but – he’s actually pretty sensitive outside the classroom. One thing led to another and we made love underneath the stars . . . it would have been romantic, but I cried the whole time. Kept thinking of you.”

Keith blushed and looked down to his plate. He stabbed at the food with various angry gestures, before he caught sight of his phone flashing into life from the bedside table. The screen flashed with Pidge’s name, before it stopped and revealed sixteen missed calls and seven text messages, almost all from Lance and Pidge. Keith gnawed at his lip, with hand poised over his plate, until he shook his head and returned to eating without an ounce of grace, but with a great deal of gratitude. Shiro said nothing, but let Keith continue.

“We screwed around for a few months,” admitted Keith. “I can count on two hands how many times we did it, though, but – in the end – I still loved you and he still pined after his ex-wife, so we called it a day and got on with life. No hard feelings, no hassle.”

“That still sounds like something you ought to have told Lance.” Shiro turned his body, until he sat crossed-legged at the foot of the bed. “I have to admit, a part of me wishes I’d never left, not just because of the Galra, but because of . . . us. I’d have liked to have been the one that made love to you under the stars, or the one you come back to after a hard day of work, but I know that what happened was no one’s fault. Still, does Lance know that?

“He’s falling for you, Keith. Lance has always been a person who gives his heart freely, who’s passionate and loyal, and he thinks of you as family. Family is the most important thing in the world to him. _You’re_ one of the most important things in his world. Do you know how much it hurt him that you used being intimate with Iverson as an attack? To hurt him?”

“I know. I know! I just . . . I never meant for things with Lance to get this far. You said you and I couldn’t date while we were fighting for the Voltron Alliance, so I just . . . I don’t know . . . I wanted to feel _something_! I ended up screwing Lance one night. It meant nothing, but -”

“It meant something to him, clearly. It’s been how long now?”

“I know, but I just couldn’t . . . I mean . . .”

Keith stabbed at his food. The chopsticks made it easy to push food around the plate, as he struggled to focus his attention, and he eventually slid the leftovers onto the bedside table, where they knocked his phone onto the carpeted floor. He caught sight of the screen flashing one more time, this time with a photograph of Hunk and Hunk’s name attached, but he ignored it just the way he ignored the rest of the calls from the others.

There was a low sigh from Shiro; he leaned across to slide his plate onto a nearby bookcase, where it balanced much like everything else in that general area. The room was an absolute mess by Shiro’s standards. Keith knew that some of the clothing – piled and screwed up in a corner of the room – began to smell a little stale, just like he knew his books weren’t in alphabetical order and his CDs were all in the wrong cases, and they would need to compromise on a lot should they decide to share a room. Shiro leaned back to ask:

“How did it get this far?”

“He thought that because we screwed it meant we were dating.” Keith ran a hand through his black hair. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. It pissed me off, as I had to keep pretending to want to be with him, always trying to watch how he felt, and it kept grating on me all the damned time. We’d fight. We’d have angry sex. The angry sex was . . . _good_.”

“So you were staying with him for the sex?” Shiro gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. “Well, no pressure on us then, hey? It’s not as though I’ll have a stud-muffin like Lance to live up to, with apparently enough expert moves to get you to scream.”

“Did you – Did you really just say ‘stud-muffin’?” Keith threw a spring roll at Shiro, who laughed a deep and throaty laugh. “Seriously, there’s no pressure on us. If you still want me, I just want to be with you . . . I don’t care about the sex or what people think or anything else, because I never cared about those things in the first place. I just want you. I want _you_ to become _us_. I – I’ve got to break things up with Lance, don’t I?”

Keith leaned his head against the wall. It was hard and cold beneath his hair, providing a welcome distraction, until Shiro heaved a long breath through his nose, as the low hiss stole his attention and caused him to look at the older man. A moment later, Shiro crawled up the bed to sit beside him. There was little space on a single mattress. Shiro had one thigh pressed against the wall, with the other touching Keith’s in a rather intimate manner, and he kept his hands upon his lap in a way that was almost platonic. Keith shuddered.

“Yeah, we can’t be together until you do,” said Shiro.

There was an awkward silence between them; Keith curled up against Shiro, as he rested his head against a strong and toned chest, and – in the quiet – he contented himself to listening to that steady and rhythmic heartbeat. Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith. The prosthetic arm was slightly cold, even as those fingers wrapped around the warm skin of his shoulder, and Keith realised – with a light blush – the sleeve of his shirt had slipped down.

Keith heard a loud laugh from Allura, followed by a squeal, and then some words from Coran that sounded like something from a speech. A moment later, there were two pairs of footsteps upon the staircase. He heard a door slam and familiar sounds, which were not long exaggerated by the clichéd squeak of bedsprings, and Keith buried his head further into the crook of Shiro’s shoulder with a moan. The older man gave off an all too familiar scent, while his laughter shook his entire body. Allura – always vocal – cried out above.

“Now you know what it’s like,” teased Shiro.

“I swear they forget they’re bedroom spans right across both of ours,” muttered Keith. “There’s some things I wish I never knew about them; like I could have gone a lifetime without knowing Coran likes role-play, just like I didn’t need to know Allura likes to ‘dominate’ or spank her partners. Did you hear them last night?”

“Yeah, sounded almost like a boxing match.” Shiro gave a laugh. “I walked in on them once when we were in the castle; Coran is a very handsome man, and I have a lot of respect for him, but did you know that buttocks start to sag at a certain age? I do.”

“You could have taken that with you to the grave.”

“I could have, but I love when you squirm.”

Keith gave a groan, as Shiro laughed once more. It was a good and healthy sound, one that reminded him of their time together pre-Kerberos, and it was as if that younger man – so filled with life and passion, such a jokester and joy – were back in their lives. The trauma was almost gone in that moment of friendship. Keith gnawed at his lip, as he pulled at the sheets to cover Shiro’s legs in turn, before he lay down against the mattress and asked:

“What do I tell Lance?”

Shiro slid down to lie beside him; he reached out for the stereo remote, smothering Keith a little with the movement as he leaned over him, and turned the radio over onto a classical station, which he carefully adjusted the volume to cancel out the sounds from above. The song that played was oddly familiar. Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s waist, ignoring the flashing light from his phone upon the floor, and let Shiro hold him in turn. It was quite often they slept together in a platonic fashion, but this felt like something more.

“Tell him the truth,” whispered Shiro.

“That I never stopped loving you?” Keith heaved a long sigh. “No, how about that I slept with Iverson to numb the pain about your death? Or how – when you came back – I wanted you more than anything, but you wanted to wait, so I slept with Lance as an intended one-night-stand, just because I wanted to feel _something_ , only he got the wrong idea.”

“How about that you always loved him as a friend,” suggested Shiro. “You admire him for his skills, especially in combat and in piloting, and you love that he is so supportive and dedicated to his friends and family, but . . . sometimes things just don’t work out. You don’t have to tell him about me. We can just wait a few months, until he’s had time to heal, and then we can start to date properly and come out to everyone. It’s an idea?”

“You know I’m not any good at heart-to-hearts. He’s going to be either angry or upset, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to comfort him . . . I’m guessing sex is off the cards? You can’t really fuck a smile onto someone’s face, if you’ve broken up with them.”

“I can’t really answer that for you, Keith, but just . . . show compassion.”

“Can’t you just break up with him for me?”

Shiro gave a long exhale of breath. Keith felt his chest rise and fall, while his heart maintained a steady rhythm, and his thumb traced light circles around Keith’s shoulder, providing a small level of comfort. The sheets were warm over their bodies, while the music was enough to lull Keith into a sense of peace, and from above there came the undeniable cry of ‘quiznak’, followed by a feminine scream of ‘yes’. Keith blushed all the more, as he tightened his hand against Shiro’s shirt, letting his fingers knot into the material.

The banging and squeaking from above came to a stop, enabling Shiro to turn down the music to a more suitable level, and Keith gave a low groan of embarrassment. There was a sound of the landline phone ringing from the kitchen, while footsteps padded around upstairs in a strange offhand manner, but Keith only listened to Shiro’s slowing breaths and beating heart, where he let his hands relax and trace patterns over the older man’s scarred abdomen.

“If you don’t respect Lance,” said Shiro, “at least have respect for yourself.”

“Fine,” muttered Keith. “When do I break-up with him?”

“Preferably as soon as possible. He keeps ringing.”

Keith rolled his eyes. The phone still vibrated, with the regular rhythm of constant text messages, and he made a mental note to turn it off before sleep. There was a sound of the television playing the end of the film from the living room, along with the laughter of Allura and the sound of the shower upstairs, and he realised – as life went on around them – that their life would be unable to start until things were ended with Lance. He swallowed hard and promised in a firm voice:

“Okay, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

There was a low sob.

It sounded from the lounge; Coran heard the soft sniffles of someone in distress, along with shuddered breaths and low murmurs, and – as he paused at the top of the stairs – it took all his strength not to turn away and hide from the sounds. He let a gloved hand grip on the railing, as his other hand came to his chest and rubbed light circles. The frown that crossed his features was difficult to erase, but he soon managed to force a bright smile.

There was a rustle of his moustache, followed by the usual crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and yet he felt – through the enforced expression – a sense that his face betrayed the truth of his concern, so that he could not stop a shimmer to his eyes. He descended the staircase with slow and steady movements, leaving behind Allura in their shared bedroom, and soon found himself at the foot of the staircase. The lounge opened up before him. He raised a hand to shield his violet eyes from the harsh lights, as he gave his vision time to adjust.

It seemed rather late at night, until a look to the clock revealed the time as eight o’clock. Coran ran a hand through his hair, as he scrunched up one side of his face and checked his watch, before – with a sigh of confirmation – he resigned himself that it was far earlier in the evening that believed. The lounge looked empty on the whole, but there was a figure hunched over on the sofa. They gave jerky movements with every wracked sob.

“Er, everything okay there, lad?”

Coran stepped forward. He remembered that this was how every horror film started, enough that one time – when absorbed in a movie night with Lance – they had a bit of a start when Keith wandered into the room unexpected. It took him several slow steps to reach the sofa, by which point he gave a long exhale of breath and felt his muscles relax from a strain that he hadn’t realised in the heat of the fear. Coran let his shoulder slump, as he moved around to sit next to the late-night occupant. The sofa cushion dipped underneath his weight.

“Didn’t expect to see you here so late,” chirped Coran.

There was a long sniffle from the other occupant. It took a while for Lance to lift his head, as he simply rested his forearms upon his spread legs and stared down at the floor with eyes blurred by tears, and yet – as Coran smiled over to him – he managed to force a smile in turn, which made things appear a little less hopeless. Lance was dressed in his usual attire, but with hair mussed and dark skin somewhat pale, and Coran worried about him.

“Keith broke up with me,” muttered Lance.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Coran placed a hand upon his back. “Allura’s been asleep since – ah . . . well, let’s say a while. Shiro’s spending a _teeny_ bit of time at the Holt household today, so he won’t be back for a wee bit. It means we’ve got plenty of time to talk! How about some Altean tea? I can even do Earth tea, if you’d like, eh?”

“No, I’m good, Coran.” Lance dropped back on the sofa, where he let his head rest upon the back cushion and stared up at the ceiling. “I just thought we were going somewhere, you know? I don’t want tea or hugs or _anything_ , just . . . answers. Closure.”

“He didn’t tell you – ah – _why_ you broke up, then?”

There were clear tearstains over his cheeks. It was a heartbreaking sight; Coran reached out to the coffee table, where he plucked a few tissues from their box, and carefully slid closer to rub at Lance’s face to remove the tears from sight. He forced his smile once more, ignoring the way Lance swatted at his arms for him to move away. There was a long sigh from Lance who sat upright and took the tissue in hand, where he blew his nose and hid the remains inside his sleeve, before he scratched at his chin and shrugged.

“Not really,” whispered Lance.

Coran moved back along the sofa, leaving a foot of space between them. Lance was flushed in the face, with a few cuts along his lower lip from where he gnawed upon them, and – from the bedroom just over to the left – Coran heard the low thrum of music being played, along with what sounded like a muttered phone conversation. He gave a long sigh and angled his body to face Lance fully, where he placed a hand on his friend’s knee and asked:

“What did you tell you?”

“Just that he’s been in love with Shiro from the start,” muttered Lance. “He said that it’s been a mistake . . . just one big mistake from day one. I shouted at him, begged him to tell me how I could fix it, and he just said it can’t be fixed. He – He’s in his room. Left me out here.”

“Keith – well – he’s not one for expressing his emotions.” Coran reached up to twist the corner of his moustache. “He does have a great respect for you, you must know that. Keith was always a bit jealous of how you were admitted back into the Garrison; I think he wanted to go back, too, but – alas – some things just aren’t meant to be. Yes, he was in love with Shiro all this time. I told them to tell you sooner, but . . . none of this is your fault.”

“It feels like my fault! We were rivals from the start, so I always thought our fights were just – you know – a part of all that, but now it turns out that he just stayed with me for the sex? Like, who even _does_ that? He was just using me! Is that all I’m good for? Am I only worth being a distraction and time-pass until the better deal comes along?”

“Come now! You put those thoughts out your head!” Coran gave a bright wink, as he slapped Lance hard upon the back. “If I were single, I would definitely be interested! You just found someone that wasn’t right for you, but that happens to us all . . . happened to me.”

“You’re kidding right? Who would dump you?”

Coran made to answer, when the bedroom door opened. Keith stood dressed in his cropped jacket, along with tight jeans that looked painted to his legs, and he looked between the two men with a somewhat perplexed gaze. He furrowed his brow and folded his arms, where Coran noticed the phone still in his gloved hand that flashed into darkness, and – from inside – there came the scent of stale foods and perspiration. It was enough to make him grateful that youth had fully passed him by, as he did not miss the mess.

There was a hiss of breath from Lance. The younger man tightened his hands into fists, as he clenched them upon his thighs, and – as he turned to look at Keith – the two of them maintained a long and awkward eye contact. Coran hoped the break-up would not also destroy the friendship circle, causing everyone to take sides, and yet he could see clearly the tears in Lance’s eyes and the pout to Keith’s lips. The trust was entirely gone.

“You’re still here?” Keith asked.

Keith leaned against the doorframe, as his eyes looked Lance over. It was difficult to judge his reactions; he kept his expression impassive, while his body barely moved an inch, and he quirked an eyebrow in apparent curiosity at the sight of his now ex-boyfriend. Lance stood up and reached down to pick up a bag left by his feet, and – as Coran glanced inside the fabric – it became clear it was mostly items left behind in Keith’s room. There were a few CDs, along with a change of clothes, and what appeared to be a revision guide.

“I was just going,” muttered Lance.

“You can stay, if you want.” Keith shrugged with an indifferent expression. “I was just on my way to pick Shiro up from the Holt house, anyway. Shiro said he’s explained to Iverson that you’ve got personal stuff going on. You can have tomorrow off from Garrison work.”

“Do you even care that we’ve broken up? That it’s all over?”

“Of course I care. I’m just busy, that’s all.”

Keith closed the bedroom door behind him. It slammed with a little too much force, so that the sound made Coran wince, and – as he chanced a glance up to Keith – he saw the young man pull his keys out of a pocket and catch up with the same hand. He would likely stop off at the shack on the way back, so that he and Shiro could enjoy a quiet night together, but the realisation was a painful one, as Coran noticed how Lance’s hand trembled.

“Can we just talk?” Lance asked. “We could work it out or –”

“Maybe later? There’s nothing to even work out.”

There was another shrug, as Keith headed to the front door. Lance followed him with his eyes, watching every step, until Keith was out of the door, and – with a loud slam – the door was shut behind him. Keith vanished out of sight. It cast a great silence about the lounge. Coran stood up and gave a loud exhale of breath, as he clapped his hands upon his upper legs and forced a bright smile. It took only a gentle touch to guide Lance over to the kitchen counter, where he sat upon a stool and slumped over with watery-eyes.

Coran moved to the stove; the kettle was still relatively full, which allowed him to turn on the gas and heat the kettle with little trouble, and – as he fished around for the various cups and equipment – he tried to keep his eyes locked upon Lance. The younger boy folded his arms across the table, as he dropped his head upon them and gazed off at a stray spot on the far wall, and he seemed far younger than his years in that moment. Coran gave a small sigh.

“Chin up, lad. Tea’s on its way!”

Lance gave a small sob, as a small smile cracked across his features. He sat upright and wiped at his face with the palms of his hands, before he revealed red cheeks and red eyes to sight, and scratched nervously at his hair. Coran turned away, finally unafraid to look away from the young man, and busied himself by making the tea in question:

“Will it ever stop hurting, Coran? It feels like it’ll hurt forever.”

“I swear the pain will stop . . . it did for me.”

Lance smiled as the tea was finally ready.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Shiro smiled from the doorway.

He leaned against the wooden frame, with two cups of coffee in hand. The heat from the ceramic warmed his skin, while the stream created beautiful patterns within the air, and – as Keith stirred in bed – he listened well to the sound of his lover’s gentle breaths. It was a warm and humid morning; Shiro had been embarrassed when Allura found him in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs, but to wear much more would be to risk heat stroke.

It amazed him how Keith could endure so many blankets. The younger man had rolled onto his back, with one knee drawn up and hands thrown above his head, and – much to Shiro’s vast appreciation – he wore only Shiro’s black shirt from the night before. There was no better sight; the fabric stopped just below his buttocks, meaning that he looked almost indecent any time the blankets slid to the side, and one long leg stretched out bare from the bottom of the bed. Keith looked flushed, still red on his cheeks and chest.

“Don’t you have work today?” Shiro asked.

Keith gave a low groan and stretched out; the way his back arched was enough to bring a spark of arousal through Shiro, especially as Keith sat upright against a small mountain of pillows, allowing the blankets to fall in a way to expose his lower body. Shiro looked away with a deep blush, while Keith ran a hand through his hair and gave a wide yawn. It was very rare to see him take time to awaken. Keith was a man that lived by a strict schedule, enough that he sometimes even slept in his clothing just to make an appointment on time.

“Perks of being self-employed,” muttered Keith.

There was a small smile on Keith’s lips. He swung his body around, so that his feet were planted firm on the ground, and rested his elbows upon his knees. Shiro gnawed at his lip, as he walked around and handed the hot mug of coffee to his lover, who took it with a sigh of relief and brought the mug to still swollen lips. Shiro coughed from behind his hand, in an attempt to clear his throat, and sat beside Keith upon the bed. The mattress dipped a little and Keith fell a little closer to Shiro, so that their thighs were pressed together.

“Are you blushing, Takashi?” Keith teased.

“It was our first time,” murmured Shiro. “It’s something I thought about for so long, but I guess I never really thought about what it’d be like for real . . . I still can’t stop thinking about it. Was it good for you? Did I hurt you? How did I compare to Lance or Iverson? I keep worrying about whether my face looked silly or my voice was too loud, so . . . yeah.”

“You were perfect.” Keith smiled and gave a playful nudge with his shoulder. “Trust me, any guy can get me to scream, but you were the first to literally take my breath away. Plus, you looked beyond hot when you came. Your mouth makes the perfect ‘O’.”

“So you were . . . faking . . . with the others? The screams, I mean.”

“Hmm? No, but it felt totally different. Hard to describe.”

Keith took a long sip from his coffee. It was a loud and slurped noise, with a strong scent that came from the cinnamon and almond milk, and the steam warmed his cheeks even more on an already hot morning in bed. The curtains were opened a crack, allowing a stream of light to seep through the dirty glass. It illuminated the mess of the room, exposing a lot that would require organisation and cleaning should they eventually share a space together, and yet the distraction was only something minor. Shiro could not take his eyes from Keith.

The younger man appeared comfortable with his body; he didn’t seem to care that his member was on clear sight between his legs, or that his shoulder and neck were bared for Shiro to see, and he didn’t even seem to mind the gap in the curtains. There was a heavy scent of sex and sweat in the air, which Shiro wanted to ventilate away with an open window, but Keith appeared oblivious to the scent and continued to drink his morning beverage.

“Different how?” Shiro asked.

“I guess it’s better with you.” Keith shrugged and lowered his cup. “Iverson knew where everything was located, so it wasn’t bad, but he didn’t really do much with what was there, so it was a little boring in places. I wasn’t really in it for the orgasms, but more the emotional intimacy and just being close to another person. It was nice, but not perfect.”

“I can’t say that I like that your first time was with someone else,” admitted Shiro. “Still, I am happy that there was an emotional connection and that he treated you well. It’s better than some drunken fumble in your dorm-room, which is what happened to Matt.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what happened to Lance, too. Well, in his room in the castle. See, it was _good_ with Lance . . . really good . . . he made a few mistake, didn’t know where certain things were, but the _passion_ was there. I guess that was the problem. We never made love once in all our time together; it was fast and hard, but never any exploration or foreplay or just . . . tenderness. It was more like a rush with a sharp release.”

Keith slid his cup onto the bedside table. He stretched and yawned, before he wandered over to throw back the floor-length curtains. The blast of natural light caused Shiro to wince, as he raised his hand to shield his eyes, and – out of both nervousness and instinct – he crawled underneath the blankets and laid down, making sure that most of his scars were hidden from sight. Keith opened the windows wide. They were extremely tall, split down the middle, and Shiro patted the side of the bed to summon Keith to him, afraid the neighbours may see them.

“And me?” Shiro asked.

“You fall right in the middle.” Keith stayed by the window. “You’re not perfect, but you know where everything is located and how it works . . . skill and technique will come with experience, and I am more than happy to practise until perfect.” There was a somewhat mischievous wink that made Shiro blush all the more. “You were tender and loving, but you also made me feel it and were passionate. It was like I had both lust and love, you know?”

“You’ve never had that before? With either partner?” Shiro quirked an eyebrow, as Keith shrugged and looked away with a blush in turn. “I’m glad that we can have that, then. I’m also glad that it was good for you, too. I kind of worried that –”

“Relax. I worked out you were a virgin ages back. It’s no big deal. Look, I really liked last night, and I’m really looking forward to spending a lifetime with you. Last night -? I didn’t feel bored or used at all, because every minute there was this connection . . . this intimacy . . . I think my favourite part was just looking in your eyes, feeling absolute trust.”

“In that case, will you come back to bed? People may see you.”

“I’m for your eyes only now, right?”

Shiro let his eyes run over Keith. The light hit him perfectly; it cast shadows about one side of his body, making him look like a work of art, while the other side made his light skin look almost like porcelain. The black shirt hung off his shoulder, oversized and somehow all the more attractive for it, and the end of his member could be seen just underneath the lower hem, both wide and long with the foreskin still attached. Shiro swallowed hard.

Keith walked over to the bed, before he slid in next to Shiro. He still felt warm, with his skin almost impossibly soft, and he was covered in the scent of Shiro’s cologne and the heavy sweat from their previous night’s activities. Shiro draped the blankets over them, before he pulled his lover against him, so that they were pressed back-to-chest, and he nuzzled into the long column of neck with a deep inhale of breath. It was the first time that they had been naked together, and the afterglow from their intercourse was still strong.

They lay together in relative silence. Shiro could feel his lover’s beating heart beneath his hands, while the netting over the windows blew out into strange patterns, and the breeze was something perfect that drew goosebumps over his exposed arm. Keith traced patterns over the various scars, until Shiro flinched and tensed his muscles. The hand on his arm stilled. It instead moved to his hand and held onto it, with fingers entwined. Shiro asked:

“How is Lance coping with things?”

“He still won’t speak to me,” admitted Keith. “Hunk’s tried to include me in group activities, but Lance refuses to show up and Pidge spends the whole time glaring at me. Coran said he’s struggling, because he feels abandoned, but I don’t get how he can feel like that . . . I know what abandonment is like, and that -? That wasn’t abandonment.”

“Pain is relative, Keith. Lance comes from a large family, with a great deal of friends, and he’s used to people expressing themselves and being completely honest, so he took your relationship on face-value. To him it was love, so when you broke up with him . . . well . . . it seemed to come out of nowhere and he now feels alone. He feels like he’s been dumped, which he kind of has, and being dumped is basically being abandoned.”

“Yeah, but what am I supposed to do about that? He keeps wanting to talk about things, but it just seems like a total waste of time. I’m not going to sit around talking about my feelings, plus it’s not as though it’ll change anything that happened, so what’s the point?”

“The point is that it might give him closure.”

Shiro pressed a chaste kiss to Keith’s neck. It was a gentle gesture, but one that caused his lover to sigh and lean further against him, so that soon their legs were wrapped around one another and Shiro practically tasted hair upon his lips. Keith was uncharacteristically in need of physical affection, as if starved for all those years since Shiro’s initial absence, and Shiro – finally able to hold his love with his arms – was glad to give him what he wanted. He breathed deep the scent of the younger man and felt the beginnings of arousal.

“All he wants are answers,” said Shiro. “That’s all.”

They stayed silent, as they simply listened to the breeze. There was a sound of several children playing in the courtyard, each one calling out louder than the last, and – from within the kitchen – Allura hummed an old tune from her childhood. Coran knocked on the door to yell out breakfast would be ready in twenty minutes, while the phone on the bedside table soon began to vibrate with Hunk’s name and face upon the screen. Life went on around them.

“I can be there when you talk to him,” suggested Shiro.

“No, that’s fine,” muttered Keith. “I can explain to him about our relationship on my own. I just don’t want to put up with the tears and constant questions.” Keith sighed and rolled onto his back, where he gave a devilish grin. “You what would help? An incentive. Seriously, there has to be something you can give me to motivate me, right?”

Shiro laughed loud despite himself, as he sat upright in bed. He held the blankets up to his chest with his cybernetic arm, so that the scars beneath were hidden from sight, but he caught how Keith rolled onto his side and propped his head upon his hand. Shiro looked towards the open window. They would need to be quiet or else close the window, but he couldn’t quite trust Keith not to follow him across the room and take him against the wall. He swallowed hard and gave a dark blush, as he reached out with an organic hand to play with Keith’s hair.

“Hmm? What would you want?”

“You. Just you.” Keith licked his lips and squeezed closer. “You promised me a turn. Why don’t we skip breakfast and go straight for dessert? Just try to keep the noise down. We wouldn’t want to traumatise anyone with your screams, right?”

“You really think you can get me to scream?” Shiro teased.

“Is that a challenge? I’m up for a challenge.”

Shiro felt the head of an erection against his leg. It provided a warm and soft touch, as it twitched against the hairs of his leg, and he could feel a slight smearing of pre-come against his already come-stained skin. He regretted falling asleep without a shower, as his thighs and stomach began to itch with the crusted white material, and yet the idea of being marked – as if a sign of Keith’s possession of him – was a great turn-on. He slid back down onto his back, where he fished under the pillow for the tube of lubricant and said:

“You’re definitely up for it, alright.”

Keith reached out and took the lubrication from Shiro’s hand. He looked Shiro up and down, before he pulled at the blankets and sat astride the older man, where he traced his free hand up and down his chest in lazy patterns and earnest exploration. Shiro knew that he would be calling in sick to work in just a short while, but he also knew that he couldn’t care less about a missed day. Those eyes bore into him with absolute hunger.

“You’re finally all mine, Takashi,” whispered Keith.

“Forever and always,” promised Shiro.

 

 

 


End file.
